Debris
by KivaEmber
Summary: Sequel to Pieces. Grimmjow muses over how much had changed over the last few decades. HichixIchi. Mild GrimmxIchi. DARK.


**Title: **Debris

**Pairing: **HichixIchi, mild GrimmxIchi

**Rating: **M

**Summary: **Sequel to **Pieces**. Grimmjow muses over how much had changed over the last few decades. HichixIchi. Mild GrimmxIchi. DARK.

**A/N: **The long awaited sequel to **Pieces**! Around 9 months late. XD

For those of you who aren't familiar with my earlier work, **Debris** is part of the **Remnants Arc**, following up (in order) **Shards**, **Fragments** and **Pieces**. It's dark and full of mind fuckery, so if ya not into that, don't read and complain, please?

(But if you're reading my stories, you'd expect something like that, wouldn't ya? ;) )

Taking a different approach here, hope I did well…

There is SUPER MILD GrimmxIchi if you squint, just so y'all know.

Enjoy!

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"_There's a place in the dark where the animals go, you can take off your skin in the cannibal glow, Juliet loves the beat and the lust it commands, drop the dagger and lather the blood on your hand, Romeo."_

_-- The Sharpest Lives, My Chemical Romance_

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**DEBRIS**

Grimmjow liked to think of himself, though not smart, at least knowledgeable enough when you have to shut up and keep your head down.

After Aizen's defeat, many of the Arrancar and Hollows were lost, confused about the sudden shift in power. That was why that Shinigami's psycho Hollow was able to charm them to his side, Aizen's decapitated head swinging from a blood spattered, pale hand. The show of power was enough to make even Ulquiorra pause.

But Ulquiorra was so loyal to Aizen he would've licked the floor clean if that traitorous Shinigami told him to, so he wasn't kept around for long.

Grimmjow growled, trying to keep his mind focused on his task – a mundane and pitiful task. If someone told him, a few decades ago, that he was going to be serving that little brat's inner Hollow, he would've punched them in the face and laughed. In fact, he wished that this was a crazy messed up hallucination sometimes, and the only ticket out was through the psycho's weakness.

Kurosaki Ichigo.

Poor bastard, he didn't know how the Hollow managed it, but he somehow _broke_ the brat. Ichigo followed the Hollow around like some twisted version of a puppy, eyes dead and blank, eerily like Ulquiorra's when Aizen told how he was _such a good Arrancar_ and patted on the head like some pet. It made Grimmjow _sick_ at how the mighty had fallen.

No more smartass comments, no more trash talking and brandishing of blades, no more leaping into battle with the finesse of a newly born kitten…Ichigo, the stubborn pain in the ass, was not this dead eyed, subservient look alike who sat at the Hollow's feet, a pure imitation of a doll or puppet. Kurosaki Ichigo was _dead_ in Grimmjow's opinion.

The tasks that the Hollow made Ichigo do were degrading, degrading enough that Grimmjow just wanted to impale the redhead on Pantera to end this sick, _sicksicksick_, puppet display. He wanted the memories of the first Shinigami he had some semblance of respect for untarnished, but it was extremely difficult when the Hollow ordered the brat to kneel in front of him and suck him off. Very difficult.

It was bearable, though, when he was given the task of babysitting, when the Hollow was too busy to look after his broken little toy. All Ichigo did was sit down by the window, staring blankly at the scarred wasteland stretching over where Karakura town used to be. Sometimes Grimmjow saw a faint flicker of the old Ichigo in those dead eyes, a smouldering ember of rage and pride before the dull bronze swallowed up the flame before it would be bolstered into an inferno.

Grimmjow growled again, looking down at his hands as he resisted the urge to wrap them round the brat's throat and squeeze, hoping to see the spark, the spark of the old Ichigo who told him that he'd _never_ lose. Or possibly put the poor bastard out of his misery. It was too pitiful, too sick, too…too _painful_ to see the kid like this.

He heard a faint shift of cloth as his charge moved slightly, but Grimmjow kept his eyes on his hands, seeing the fingers twitch as reasons and bitter memories whispered at him that to put the brat out of his misery would be_ the best thing to do._ Not allow Ichigo to be Ulquiorra with Aizen, it made him sick then, and it made him twice as sick now.

He didn't realized when his hands suddenly pressed against the brat's smooth throat, a slight pressure constricting the breathing mildly until the redhead made a soft noise, cyan eyes glowering at the dead bronze. No spark, no flicker, no nothing. Dead like everything else around here.

His hands dropped from the unmarred throat, cyan eyes snapping away and missing the faint look of disappointment in bronze eyes. He wasn't here to fix something so broken and crushed that not even the fabled 'God' himself could do it. He wasn't this kid's saviour.

He was just here to clean up the debris.

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**A/N: **I was trying to get into Grimmjow's head and see how he'd have thought about the whole thing. Not sure if I succeeded but oh well.

Hope y'all enjoyed!


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